


waiting for the sun

by drakelock



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: 1970s, 1980s, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bohemian Rhapsody, Developing Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Music, Rock and Roll, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-22 16:34:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16601597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakelock/pseuds/drakelock
Summary: should be waiting for the sun,looking round to find the words to say.should be waiting for the skies to clear,there ain't time in all the world.- doing all right, queen (1973)Elizabeth Anderson is one of the few women climbing the ladder in the music industry, determined to single-handedly reach the top and manage artists of her own. As a close friend of Queen's guitarist, she's invited to their last tour date and gets to finally meet the other members of the band. She clashes with one member in particular, but can't help but be intoxicated but him at the same time. Is he who the tabloids say he is, or is there more to the drummer?(Heavily inspired by the 2018 film Bohemian Rhapsody and the actors' portrayals, but also influenced by the real members of the band. Any resemblance to reality in terms of plot is purely coincidental!)





	1. the works, track 6

** Spring, 1977. **

Smoke swirled around Wembley Arena, snaking between people, the smell of sweat and cigarettes growing stronger and stronger by the minute. Multicoloured lights illuminated the stage, where three microphone stands and a drumkit sat waiting. Elizabeth Williams sipped her drink, the sweet taste of gin gliding down her throat and somewhat quenching her thirst. Tucking a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, she gazed out onto the packed stadium below, the sound of chatter and laughter so loud it felt like it was playing out of the speakers.

“You alright?” Chrissie asked her, slinging her arm around her neck. _The show hasn’t even started, and she’s already had one too many_ Elizabeth thought as she smiled. “I’m good, thanks.” She reassured her, returning her a hug from the side. “Bri’s so happy you came, he can’t wait to see you after the show. How long has it been?” She rambled, brushing the hair out of her face. A wave of sadness washed over Elizabeth as she told her it had been two years since she’d last seen her best friend face to face, having survived on letters and phone calls. Elizabeth had _seen_ him, obviously. Queen was everywhere: posters plastered bar walls, albums piled high in shops and they constantly made TV appearances. But, no matter how hard she and Brian had tried, every time they made plans something came up, what with him either recording and touring, and her working day and night at CBS Records.

The door to the box swung open and a man stepped inside, joining the small group by the open balcony doors. “Not a bad view, huh?” He grinned, gesturing at the waiter for a drink. “Not bad at all.” Chrissie agreed, turning to face him and tugging Elizabeth’s arm also. “This is John Reid, he’s the boys’ manager.” She introduced, and Elizabeth’s brown eyes widened. Shaking his open hand firmly, she smiled as confidently as she could. “Big fan.” Elizabeth complimented, but John instinctively nodded towards the stage, “Of the boys?” he asked, taking a beer from one of the servers. “She’s a friend of Brian’s!” Chrissie chimed in, and his expression softened, obviously having expected to have to deal with another adoring fan. “I meant you, I’m working at CBS and I want to manage.” Raising his eyebrows, he nodded impressively at her. “I didn’t know they took on…” John’s voice trailed off as he looked Elizabeth up and down, and she finished the sentence in her head – _Women_. Crossing her arms, she raised an eyebrow. “Quite a few Northerners in the industry now.” Elizabeth replied coolly, used to being underestimated. Over the years she had found sarcasm to be the best retort, often silencing their stupidity into silence. John smiled in amusement and raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to offend, hell, I’m all for it.” The stage lights began to dim, and the crowd roared in excitement. “I’ll be waiting for my offer from EMI then.” She joked, and John laughed as he helped her out onto the VIP balcony to watch the gig.

Watching Brian play filled her with pride. Memories of the aspiring astrophysicist strumming away when they were younger flooded her mind, and she cheered loudly after each of his solos, her hands sore from clapping. Without realising, Elizabeth found herself studying the other members, having never met them before. _Critics didn’t do Mercury justice in their reviews,_ she thought to herself as she watched him. The man was an animal on stage, the audience his prey, submitting entirely to his voice. He prowled, pounced and punched the air more times than she could count. John Deacon was softer in his movements, and his appearance, but still exuded the same level of talent. Then there was the drummer. Roger Taylor. The notorious bad boy of the group, exceptionally gifted and somehow utterly captivating her. Drumming had always been a talent she admired, but his skill was unlike anything Elizabeth had ever seen before. As he and Brian finished the final rendition of God Save The Queen, both John and Chrissie whooped like children and she couldn’t help but join them.

Making their way to the bar that had been booked to celebrate the end of the News Of The World tour,  the thrill of the concert began to die down as Elizabeth’s eagerness to see her friend again kicked in. The cool, late night breeze ruffled her hair as she tugged her denim jacket further across her chest, regretting wearing only a black halter neck underneath. Inside, the room was warmer and filled with crew and guests, some already dancing whilst others sat around tables chatting over cold liquor and peanuts. “First round on me.” She beamed at Chrissie, walking up to the bartender. “Scotch on the rocks, and…” Gesturing to the woman next to her, she ordered as Elizabeth slid the money over the counter, hooped earrings jangling slightly as she turned to talk to Chrissie, who had suddenly disappeared into the crowd. Elizabeth’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and she leant against the wooden counter, frantically searching the mass of people. But, before she had time to venture after her, a huge cheer erupted around the room as four men entered – tired looking but buzzing with energy. Smiling fondly, Elizabeth realised where her friend had disappeared to as her eyes fixed on the top of a familiar abundance of curls that was slowly making its way towards her. Applauding also, she watched people almost clamber over each other, just to be able to pat him on the back or shake his hand. It slowed the short journey but eventually, Brian May emerged into view, arm lovingly slung around his wife. As his eyes met Elizabeth’s, the gawky grin on his face grew wider and he pulled her into a hug, lifting her off her feet and spinning her.

“You came!” He exclaimed as he put her back down onto the ground. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world, Bri.” She replied, still embracing him. “Jesus, I’m getting all teary eyed! How long has it been again?” He wondered as the bartender passed him a beer, and Chrissie sipped her wine. “Two years.” Elizabeth reminded him, and he shook his head. “Too long.” He said as the three of them clinked their glasses against each other, and the two women echoed “Too long.” For the next half an hour, they caught up, Brian told her all about the tours and albums, and she chatted about her CBS job. “I’m not expecting to get any higher, because…” Elizabeth pointed at her breasts and sighed, Brian snorted in response. “But, hey. What can you do!” Wiping his mouth with his hand, he sighed. “It’s still not fair, Liz. You’d be so much better than those tossers in charge.” She squeezed his hand appreciatively and shrugged her shoulders helplessly. “Come on.” Brian said, standing. “I’ll introduce you to the guys.”

As they navigated their way through the crowd, the live music began to spill out the speakers and filled the air as more and more dancers filled the floor. Luckily, Brian’s height – _and the fact he was Brian May_ – meant he created a path, and as they neared the other side of the room, the rest of Queen appeared into view. “I was starting to worry, mate!” The bassist grinned, moving up in the booth’s seating so there was room. “Guys, this is Elizabeth Anderson, she’s an old friend of mine. Liz, the band.” The redhead offered her his hand and as she shook it, he smiled warmly. “A friend of Bri’s is a friend of ours. I’m John.” There was something about him that was very benevolent and effortlessly cool in his demeanour and appearance, making Elizabeth feel surprisingly at ease in his company. “Mr Mercury.” A recognisable voice drawled behind her, and she couldn’t help but smile. Turning to face the lead, Elizabeth bowed slightly and tucked one of her ankles behind the other in a mock curtsey. “The Queen himself.” She replied and watched his eyes gleam with amusement. “Brian, I love her already.” Freddie commented as he kissed her cheek, and she returned the courtesy. “And this is Roger.”

The man lounging on the other end of the table eyed Elizabeth from under a pair of tinted sunglasses. A black shirt was unbuttoned until just above his naval and an array of necklaces hung around his neck. He smirked, drumming his fingers on his knee, making no effort to greet her. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Roger asked, leaning forward and Elizabeth saw his blue eyes staring at her over the rim of his glasses. Brian groaned as he and Chrissie sat down. “Take a day off, Rog. Ignore him.” He said to his friend, as she pulled up a stool beside him. Sipping her scotch, Elizabeth sat down, her red lipstick leaving a small stain on the glass. “Who said I was a nice girl, Mr Taylor?” She retorted innocently, and the rest of the band laughed, surprised to see anybody firing back at him. Chrissie started chatting to another woman sat beside John, so you presumed it was his wife. Putting his chin in his hand, Freddie leant on the table. “So, what do you do, darling?” He asked, using his free hand to stir his drink. “I work for CBS, just booking venues and organising gigs for the artists.” You answered casually, but before the others could respond Brian interrupted. “But she’s so much better than that, swear to god, as a manager she’d give Reid a run for his money.” Conversation flowed across the table, but the drummer remained silent, and Elizabeth could sense him staring at her. Freddie seemed determined to assure her that she could make it – “Tits or dicks, it’s what up there that counts!” He declared, poking Elizabeth’s head softly with his finger.

A sudden snort of laughter caused everyone to stop talking suddenly and look at the man at the other end of the table. “Sorry, it’s just…” Roger began, and Elizabeth’s smile slowly fell from her face. “Just what?” She questioned irritably, the energy from the drinks in her system starting to kick in. The corner of his mouth raised just a little, as he leant back into his seat, legs spreading a little wider. “It does matter, doesn’t it? I’m sure they’ve helped you get where you’re going.” Roger flirted, his eyes dropping to her chest. Elizabeth’s cheeks flushed, a wave of self-consciousness washing over her. “We could rehearse your next job interview later if you want.” He continued, smiling coyly. “Roger!” Brian growled, slamming his bottle on the table, as John sighed and lowered his head in annoyance. Clenching her teeth together, Elizabeth resisted the temptation to throttle him over the table. Brian looked at her apologetically as she kicked her chair back. “If you’d excuse me, I need a drink.” And with that, Elizabeth left and stormed over to the bar.

“For god’s sake, Roger, why would you say something like that?” Veronica scolded, anxiously looking back at Brian. “Because he wants to fuck her, dear.” Freddie answered bluntly, and Brian’s eyebrows raised, and jaw dropped. “What?” Roger shrugged. “Don’t tell me you never did!” Chrissie rolled her eyes and Brian clenched his fist on the table. “Roger, she’s not just another fan. She’s my friend. My hard-working, ‘been through shit to be where she is’ friend and you have _no_ right to talk to her like that.” He ordered, and John nodded in agreement. Freddie lit his cigarette before placing it between his lips and pointing at Roger, nodding his head in Elizabeth’s direction. “Fifty quid says you can’t do it.” The drummer bit the inside of his lip, still smirking. “That a bet?” The others started to protest, but he reached over the table and grabbed Freddie’s hand. “Fifty quid says I can.”

The familiar opening riff of Come Together began to play as Elizabeth finished downing your shot, trying to soothe and control her anger. single-handedly, she could shrug off comments like that easily, but something about _him_ made it sting more than normal. Maybe it was because this was meant to be her night off from the ignorance of male colleagues, maybe it was because he had said it in front of the others, or maybe it was the fact that _somehow_ she was still attracted to him. Groaning, Elizabeth tried to focus her attention on the band that was playing. They were pretty good, adding more bass and beat than the original track, which she preferred. Slowly but surely, her hips started swaying and the sense self-consciousness was submerged by the liquor she had just drunk. _Fuck him._ She thought to herself, making her way into the crowd. _I can still have a good time._  

Anxiously jigging his leg, Brian searched the room through narrowed eyes. “That’s it, I’m going to find her.” He said standing suddenly, the others nodding in agreement. Roger felt a twinge of guilt, knowing he had upset not only Brian but his friend. Most girls he encountered would drop to their knees before he even said a word, he rarely met someone who saw him as just another guy, not _The Roger Taylor_. Before Brian could take a step, Freddie pointed at the centre of the crowd, smiling. “Found her.” They followed his gaze, which was fixed on a familiar figure dancing with some of the young crew members. Elizabeth’s hair was all over her face as she swung it to the beat, laughing at something the man pressed against her back had whispered in your ear. Her denim jacket discarded at the bar, the lights illuminated her skin different colours, blue flared jeans covering her boots which gave her both extra confidence and height. Roger watched her, primal senses of lust and envy consuming his alcohol-fuelled mind. _Maybe that could have been you up there with her if you weren’t such a prick,_ he thought to himself as he raised his bottle to his lips, trying to hide his jealous expression from the others.

As the band finished the song, Elizabeth wiped the slight sweat on her brow and parted with the strangers on the dance floor. Clapping his hands, Freddie offered her his hand and she sat down next to him. “Quite a show, Miss Anderson.” He said as Brian relaxed slightly, reading her face and seeing she was calmer. “What can I say? I love that song.” She replied, tying her hair back casually. “Are you a fan of The Beatles?” John asked and Elizabeth nodded her head firmly. A fond laugh escaped Brian’s lips as he smiled at her, about to recall a memory but before he could speak John walked towards the table with a gaggle of journalists behind him. “Sorry, boys. They just want a few pictures and quotes then they are good to go.” Camera flashes started to erupt like fireworks, and the atmosphere changed instantly. Everyone’s expression hardened slightly, and Elizabeth watched Brian’s guard come up, his shoulders hunching slightly and head bowing. Dusting non-existent dust off her jeans, she stood and leant across the table to give her friend a kiss on the cheek. “That’s my cue.” She whispered, and he nodded understandingly. “You’re leaving?” Chrissie asked, and Elizabeth started to stammer out an excuse about work, but Brian cut her off, knowing she hated even remotely being in the limelight. “See you soon, Liz. Promise?”

“Promise.” She repeated and waved goodbye to the rest of the band as the swarm of photographers grew larger and larger. Grabbing her jacket from the bar, she stepped outside and savoured the sensation of the cool night air on her skin. Elizabeth leant against a nearby lamppost, stuffing her hands into her jeans pocket and retrieving a packet of cigarettes before slipping one into her mouth, but her lighter was nowhere to be seen as she frantically checked all her pockets. “Shit, shit, _shit_!” She groaned, dropping her arms to her sides in defeat.

The sound of a lighter flicking on filled the air, followed by footsteps approaching her. Elizabeth turned to see Roger stood beside her, offering her his light. He was taller than she thought, matching her height in heels. The radiating orange glow from the street light gave a golden hue to his appearance, his clean-shaven jaw more defined, highlights in his tousled blonde hair gleaming slightly. Roger raised his eyebrows and raised the flame to the cigarette between her lips. It hissed as it lit, and the smoke mixed with the clouds of their breath in the cool. “Thanks.” Elizabeth said flatly, annoyed that he had followed her out here. “Not a problem.” He replied, voice slightly muffled as he lit his own cigarette. Roger exhaled, looking up at the night sky which was starless and dark. “I wanted to apologise.” He began, but Elizabeth snorted and started kicking the curb with her shoe. “For god’s sake, I’m just tryin’ to be nice, alright? I was a dick, I’m sorry, what more can I say?” Roger rambled, taking his sunglasses off, already feeling frustrated and embarrassed. “You could have not said anything in the first place!” Liz argued, stubbing her cigarette out on the pavement, suddenly wanting to get away from him as quickly as possible even though she had no way of getting home. “Stop! Where the hell are you going?” He called, jogging after her. “Home!” She answered sharply as he caught up with her. “Taxis are the other way?” Roger reminded her, looking confused as her pace quickened. “I’m walking!”

He stopped abruptly, sighing. “Do you… do you want some cash? To get a ride home?” Elizabeth felt a deep sense of humiliation, _was it that obvious she was broke_? “What have I got to do, huh?” She asked bitterly, expecting to be ridiculed by him again. “Saying thanks would be nice.” Roger said simply, turning his red blazar’s collar up against the wind. “C’mon. No judgement, no hard feelings.” He assured her, stepping out into the road and signalling a cab to pull up. Biting the inside of her lip, she slowly approached the door he was holding open for her. “I’ll pay you back.” He shook his head, causing the strands of hair he’d tucked behind his ear to fall onto his face. “Don’t worry about it.” But she jabbed her finger into his chest in refusal. “No, I always pay people back. How much do I owe you?” The taxi driver grunted impatiently, and Roger helped her into the car. “What do I owe you?” She repeated, and a small smile crept across the drummer’s face.

“Lunch. Tomorrow.”

 


	2. a night at the opera, track 2

London was wide awake.

Buses glided down the roads, taxis zipped down alleys and tourists flocked the streets. Greengrocers hollered at those passing by, cries of “Two for one!” and “Fresh from the fields!” filling the air. The city tingled with mid-morning energy, powered by surprisingly good weather and consequent cheerful spirits of its inhabitants.

Elizabeth, however, was barely awake.

Reluctantly, she raised her head from the pillow and looked at the clock propped against the wall on the other side of the room. **11:35 am**. Liz sighed, rolling onto her back and watched the streaks of sunlight dance between the shadows of the curtains. Her head ached a little, the drinks from the night before taking their revenge, but she’d had worse hangovers. Tossing the covers away, she stepped off the mattress on the floor and walked to the other side of the room and poured herself a glass of water to try and aid the slight throbbing in her head.

Eviction letters were scattered across the countertop, and Elizabeth laughed bitterly to herself. Even selling most of her belongings hadn’t raised enough money for rent this time. Her apartment was a ghost of what it once was: a mattress lay in the corner of the room beside a lamp on the floor, a record player and a stack of records in the other with two travel bags filled with clothes and personal items slung by the door. She had enough money for a hotel for a few nights, but after that, she didn’t know.

 _Brian?_ She didn’t want to add any more chaos to his and Chrissie’s life.

 _Stay at work?_ If she got caught, she’d be fired in a heartbeat.

_Mum and Dad? Like they’d want to see me again considering I left home for this._

Trying to forget about the impending crisis, Elizabeth showered before getting changed into a simple pair of jeans and a red polo shirt, tying her wet hair back off her face. She sat cross-legged on the floor and began to pack properly back, listening to Bob Seger spin on the turntable, humming along to try and keep her anxiety at bay. Just as she finished, an abrupt knock at the door caused her to jump in surprise slightly. Inhaling sharply, Elizabeth rolled her shoulders back confidently, preparing to come face to face with her landlord. “Don’t worry, I don’t want to stay in this shithole anymore than you want me too, I’m going!” She swore as she swung the door open, but her voice stopped suddenly when she saw who was stood outside her flat.

“Morning?” Roger said slowly, raising his eyebrows at her outburst. His hair was messy, as if he too had just rolled out of bed, pushed back by a different pair of sunglasses on his head. White boots stood out against his black jeans, which a blue shirt was tucked into, hidden under a grey bomber jacket. Elizabeth exhaled, leaning against the door frame in relief. “Sorry I thought you were…” She stopped, not wanting to tell him about her situation, and waved in the air dismissively. “Someone else.”

Roger grinned at her, looking expectant. Elizabeth stared back for a moment, not knowing why he was even on her doorstep until it hit her. “Lunch.” She realised out loud. “Shit, I’m sorry. I totally forgot.” Liz continued, gesturing for him to come inside. “Don’t worry about it, a cuppa would be nice though…” His voice trailed off when he saw the emptiness of the room and the packed bags in the middle. “Moving day?” He asked as Elizabeth shut the door behind him. “Something like that.” She answered shortly, feeling embarrassed in his presence once again, but for an entirely different reason to last night.

As she got the mugs out the cupboard, Roger’s eyes fell onto the letters stamped in red on the side and grasped her situation. Different thoughts and suggestions raced through his head, and without realising he found himself clearing his throat. “I, uh… I know its none of my business.” He began, and Elizabeth turned to see him holding one of the eviction notices up. Her face flushed, red roses blooming across her cheeks. “You’re right, it's not.” Elizabeth snapped, slamming the cups on the kitchen counter. Roger took a step back but persisted. “Hey, it happens to the best of us. All I’m saying is I have a sofa if you need it... Or a big enough bed.” Liz let out a hollow laugh and shook her head. “Thanks, but no thanks. I can look after myself.” Elizabeth assured him, but Roger could see through the smile she forced. “I’m sure you can. I’m just offering, as a friend.”

“We’re not _friends_ , Roger, we hardly know each other.” She sighed, putting her elbows on the counter and resting her head in her hands. The kettle started to whistle, and Roger poured the tea into two old and chipped mugs before sliding one over to her. “You’re right, we’re not.” He began, and Elizabeth cast a confused glance in his direction at the fact he was agreeing with her. A smug smile spread across his face, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. “We’re housemates.” Elizabeth started to protest, but he pushed his finger over her lips, shushing her. “Don’t argue, or I’ll…” Elizabeth grabbed his wrist and held his hand away from her face. “Or you’ll what?” She challenged, and he seemed to search for the answer in the space above her head before his smirk returned. “Or I’ll tell Brian.” Liz’s face fell, mouth ajar. “Don’t you dare.” Roger just grinned in response, before raising his eyebrows at her hand still clasped around his. “I’ll help you pack.”

It didn’t take long to gather everything and somehow squeeze everything into the back of Roger’s car. He drove in silence, tapping his finger against the steering wheel to the beat of each song that blared out of the radio, always finding the rhythm perfectly. Elizabeth watched him out of the corner of her eye, studying his movements and expressions, how he smiled to himself when the car hit a high speed and frowned when turning into traffic. For a rock and roll star, his mannerisms were surprisingly soft. As they pulled up outside the house and he changed gear, Roger’s hand brushed against the side of Elizabeth’s thigh, before he jumped out and opened the door for her. He didn't notice, but she did. “It’s not much...” He said, carrying the bags up to the front door. “But it’s home. At least for now.”

Elizabeth whistled in awe when she stepped inside. It was a bachelor’s heaven, an open plan dream. Two leather sofas lay in the middle of the room, acting as a divide between the small but functional kitchen and living room. A record player and drink’s cabinet stand in the corner, half written music sheets were scattered over the coffee table and a small television sat beside a fireplace. The warm colours of the furniture were welcoming and without realising, Elizabeth found herself relaxing.

“You like it?” Roger asked worriedly, leaning against the doorframe. “I love it.” She replied, walking around wealth and space she had never known. He laughed lightly, watching her run her fingers along the different surfaces. “Thank you.” Elizabeth said quietly, stopping by the window and looking out of the window. “You’re welcome.”

The two of them unpacked, Roger clearing out two drawers that were filled with random items, so she could have somewhere to put her things. Liz tapped her foot along to The Beatles as she folded shirts away until Roger’s humming stopped suddenly. He pulled a pair of her underwear out of her bag, raising them in the air with the tip of his finger. “I know a better place for these.” Roger drawled flirtatiously, and Elizabeth groaned, struggling to repress her smile. “If you say your bedroom floor, I swear to God...” He raised his eyebrow and the two of them tried to stare at each other as seriously as possible before the giggle that was rising inside Elizabeth spilled out and the two of them erupted into laughter. "See? We're already finishing each other's sentences." 

The afternoon seemed to slip by, and as the sun disappeared behind buildings in the distance, it dawned on Roger that he and Elizabeth still hadn’t eaten. “I’ve got fuck all in…” He thought aloud as he swung the fridge door open and glanced at the bare shelves. “Fancy eating out?” Roger called over his shoulder to her, who was slouched on the sofa, reading the paper. She snorted and shook her head firmly. “No way, Taylor. I don’t want the Daily Mail following my every move if we’re seen together.” Smiling to himself, Roger grabbed his coat off the back of a chair and threw Elizabeth’s jumper over her. “I don’t think I’m front page worthy just yet, love. C’mon, I know a nice Italian place down the road. No paparazzi, I promise.”

The restaurant was practically deserted, to Elizabeth’s surprise. Rickety tables were crammed into a small room, mismatching tablecloths covering them with candles and cutlery on top. Considering the joint looked relatively dingy from the outside, the food was incredible. Elizabeth moaned in enjoyment as she ate her pasta, and Roger laughed. “I didn’t expect it to be _this_ good.” She commented, wiping her mouth with a napkin. Throwing his arms in the air gently, the drummer leant back in his chair, their knees touching. “Guess you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.” The two of them shared a small smile, before continuing to eat and discuss everything from politics to Brian, a best friend to them both. Elizabeth couldn’t believe how much the two of them had in common, that under his playboy façade there was someone who cared deeply about the world around him and his impact on it.

Stepping back outside, Liz shivered as the wind whirled around them. Noticing her teeth chattering slightly, Roger slipped his faux fur coat off as they made their way down the street and put it over her shoulders. Her head jerked up suddenly, taken aback by his unannounced kind act. “Don’t mention it.” Roger said as he lit himself a cigarette and inhaled slowly. Elizabeth turned her head away to hide the flattered smile that graced her face as she felt the heat grow in her cheeks. When they arrived home, even though Liz continued to insist her staying was only temporary, Roger disappeared upstairs only to return minutes later with pillows and a duvet. “This alright?” He asked, momentarily admiring her from afar in her pyjamas before he spoke. “It’s fine, Roger. Thank you. For today, for everything.” She said appreciatively, taking the bedding off him.

“You know the offer upstairs still stands.” Roger flirted, and Elizabeth groaned in annoyance but didn’t take offence. “Maybe some other girl would, Roger. But not me, not today.” A playful smile spread across his face as he tugged her hip, swivelling her round to face him. She would have fallen over if it weren’t for his arm around her waist, holding her tightly against him. “But not never, huh?” He murmured, his blue eyes slowly making their way down her body. Pushing his chin up with her fingertip, Elizabeth forced his gaze to return to her face. “You're dedicated to your cause, I’ll give you that, Taylor." A wave of confidence washed over her, and she leaned in, kissing his left cheek softly. Roger relaxed into Liz’s touch, closing his eyes. As she withdrew, he cupped her face with his hand, looking into her green eyes searchingly. “I’ve never met a girl like you before.” Roger said softly, enjoying the sensation of feeling her smile against his palm instead of just seeing it.

“Goodnight, Rog.”

 


End file.
